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It had been so long that it slipped Quackity’s mind. It had been so long since he held hands with someone, hugged someone, or even gave someone a pat on the back. He lived without it for so long, he could barely remember what it was like.
Maybe in his dreams, when he drank too much and passed out in his office, and remembered the soft touches from people whose names he couldn’t quite remember. It was the only time he would dwell on the past, especially if he knew he wouldn’t remember much of it the next morning.
The stinging betrayal from those who claimed to love him, to care for him, left him angry and cold. The fighting he had thrown himself into left him blind in one eye with hands that trembled uselessly. He wanted to burn everything around him until there was nothing left but the raging fire and him. His anger consumed him, took over him, and it was all he could feel. It kept him going, it kept him alive if that’s what he was.
So, when he let one more person join his growing nation, he realized a few things he hadn’t realized before.
Quackity was unsure of letting you join in all honesty. He barely knew you, barely knew anything about you and your alliances. All he knew was that Slime liked you and that you liked red apples, but not the green ones since they made your stomach hurt (Slime had told him this when he had heard the news that someone had joined the SMP). But excitement behind Slime’s eyes made his hard exterior soften his resolve and he found himself welcoming you into Las Nevadas.
From what he had seen, you liked spending your time helping Foolish and Fundy around Las Nevadas or you ran around with Slime while you both explored the area. You mostly stayed in Las Nevadas, only going out to You weren’t here for everything that had happened with L’Manberg and the wars, so you were oblivious to most of the dark history of the SMP.
Quackity thought you were a bit odd. You were quiet and a bit awkward for the most part, sometimes he’d see you joking around with Slime, visiting Purpled in his little shack, or eagerly running around with Foolish while he explained the builds to you and how he would go about making them, and on some occasions, he’d see you chatting with Fundy while he mined for more supplies.
You were generally friendly, but you were weird around him. You wouldn’t look him in the eyes, or eye since he really did only have one working eye, and stumble over your words as you explained to him what you were doing. He tried his best to seem more friendly and less hostile, remembering how flustered you were when he first met you.
He had no real reason to be suspicious of you, but he knew better than that not to expect you to betray him. No matter how kind you were or how you would often ask his opinion on the flower arrangement for the chapel he swore he would destroy but never found the will to do so.
You were naive, something that wouldn’t last. You blindly trusted Wilbur, who snuck his way into Las Nevadas and got you trapped in some cave with no weapons and no help on his part. Quackity had gotten your urgent message and quickly made his way over to you, helping you out before sending Wilbur flying back from his punch. But even after that, he occasionally saw you talking to Wilbur which made him want to punch the living crap out of the British man again until he stopped bothering his citizens.
But the anger would disappear and be replaced with relief when you would notice him and excuse yourself from Wilbur’s presence and make your way over to him. You’d smile and tilt your head to the side, looking like a cute dog although he wouldn’t admit he thought it was cute. It was a much better reaction than the nervous, wide-eyed doe look you had when he used to call you over to him, even if he thought your expression was cute.
Since then, something friendly blossomed between you and Quackity. He found your presence calming, despite his mind telling him to not fall into the trap that was your friendship. You’d accompany him around Las Nevadas, filling the silence he had become accustomed to with conversations over the most silly things that made him crack a smile or laugh.
Despite this, Quackity felt the most inane feeling to protect what naivety you had left. He knew you would never remain unaware of the many dark things that had happened on the SMP, something he noted from your awareness over what generally happened during your conversations.
You avoided speaking too much about L’Manberg, or at least what’s left of it; you avoided talking about Manberg v. Pogtopia and Schlatt. The thought of that horrible man left a bad taste in Quackity’s mouth.
Overall, you avoided talking about unsavory things.
But he liked being around you, it was like a breath of fresh air, something that left him feeling confused and terrified. You didn’t belong in his world, you belonged somewhere much better and more safer, but here is where you stayed.
After some time, he realized how touch deprived he was. It started when you offered him a brief hug behind the safety and privacy of his office walls. It was awkward and unsure. He didn’t know where to put his hands, so he let you take the lead.
He felt the pressure of your hands on his back, disappearing as quickly as they came.
“Was that okay?” You stepped back, unsure of what to say or do. He blinked a few times, trying to catch up to the fact that you hugged him.
“Uh, yeah, yeah,” He said, reassuring your insecure state the best he could. “It was okay.”
Since then, hugs became a bit of a regular habit. Granted, you only did it when it was just the two of you in his office or the Needle. It took awhile until the awkward and tense air dissipated and there was an air of comfort when you hugged him. His hands always found themselves settling on your waist or the small of your back while your hands settled between his shoulder blades.
The hugs were always brief until they weren’t. Sometimes, you’d linger. The warmth of your hands on his back seeped through his shirt and into him, a newfound warmth enveloping him into a state of flustered confusion and longing.
This physical intimacy terrified him and made him second guess himself as he let himself be held by you. A war in his mind raged, one where he wanted to touch and to let himself touch you, or snuff out the longing and retreat back into the cold, withering state of anger and sadness.
Being held by you felt different from when he could vaguely remember being held. He remembers giving away his touch to his lovers to fill the need for affection and to remind himself that he was enough.
But this time, it was different. You were the one who seeked him out and gently pulled him into a hug. He wanted to sink into you, relax his tense muscles and let himself breathe. You hugged him, not because you wanted something from him, but just for the sake of holding him.
This physical intimacy also extended to him reaching out to you and letting his hand hover over the small of your back before settling comfortably on your hip; or perhaps, when you and him sat together on one of the booths in the restaurant at night, and his arm would be hanging over your shoulders, letting you sink into his side; or when he would let you drag him away from the bar and to his bed, hands pulling off his tie and suspenders before letting him settle onto his bed and caressing his scarred cheek before slipping out the dark room.
On one particular night, he found himself sitting in his office, staring down at the papers he spent all day looking through. You walked in with a tray of food, like you always did when he holed himself in his office all day.
He managed a smile, glad to see you again. “Hey.”
“Hey, Q.” You said, pulling him away from his piles of work and to the couch. There was a warm bowl of potato and rabbit for him, two cups of water, and an apple for you. “Here, have some dinner.”
You two ate in relative silence, your legs intertwined with his as much as they could while he ate his soup and you peeled the skin off your apple. It was nice, this domestic moment between you and him.
After dinner was finished, he let himself sink back into the cushions of his couch. Before you, it was relatively unused. There was dust that settled over it until you came in and cleaned up his messy excuse of an office. The only time you left his side was to light the fireplace and close the curtains.
You settled into his side when you returned, your arm over his stomach and your leg over his. Subconsciously, his arm came around your shoulders to pull you close. Your cheek was pressed to his shoulder and he suddenly became too aware of how close you were.
After Karl and Sapnap, he thought he was done with love. He’d been hurt too much, and he was afraid of it happening again. Yet he found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with you. He was truly a romantic at heart, wanting nothing more than to pull you close, grip you tight, and never let go.
It was getting late, judging by the clock above the fireplace. You detached yourself from him, slipping away from his grasp. You always got up at the same time every night and went to bed, but this time, he didn’t want you to go.
Before he knew it, he was gripping onto your wrist and pulling you back to him.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Quackity swallowed the lump in his throat, looking away from your face. He was confused with himself, with you, and everything in between you and him.
“I don’t know.” He answered, feeling dumb.
You stayed quiet for a moment before returning to him, standing in front of him and looking down at him with an unreadable expression. You hooked a finger underneath his chin and lifted his face to look up at you.
The fire behind you created a halo of light, enhancing your already attractive features. The sight made him breathless. The lack of distance between you and him reminded him how much he loved being close to you, how consumed he felt by your gaze.
“Is there something you need?”
“No."
His initial reaction was, no. He didn’t need anything. He didn't need anything because he had everything he ever wanted. A home and a family. But he knew it was just a lie. He had blown up Purpled’s UFO, which even he had to admit was a dick move, he took advantage of Fundy’s crazed and vulnerable state, berated and manipulated Foolish into joining him, he even almost killed Slime until he decided he would be a good spy.
This so-called family he built was riddled with lies, distrust, and deceit. It wasn’t made out of pure intentions, rather it was built selfishly. How could he expect you to want him after this? How could you want to stay when he had nothing to give you but pain?
But your eyes made him reconsider. Maybe you didn’t want anything from him, his money nor his land. Maybe you just wanted him. The thought of you wanting him made him feel a burst of emotions. That thought was dangerous, even entertaining it was stupid. But looking at you right now, it was all he wanted.
“Yes.” He finally breathed out, his hands shaking in his lap from how nervous and terrified he was. Nervous at the prospect of being with you and terrified of being rejected.
You moved closer, hands resting on his shoulders. Your eyes shone gold from the fire reflecting off your eyes and he felt the tell-tale butterflies in his stomach. You, with just a glance and touch, managed to reduce him to this mess and he was more than okay with it.
“Is this okay?” You murmured, rubbing his shoulders affectionately. He nodded mutely, letting you take the reins.
You leaned down, pressing your lips against his. When your soft lips met his, he let out a muffled noise. Your hands on his shoulders moved up to his neck, then his face. His hands stayed on your waist, not knowing where else he could put them.
You kissed him the way you held him; soft, slow and steady. Your lips were warm like the rest of your body was. You were much better at this than he ever was. The kiss was soft at first then with a sudden gradation of intensity that made him cling to you from how the world around him swayed and spun.
You and him kissed for a long time. You filled him with a deep yearning and astonishment from how enraptured he was with you, how in love he was.
You pulled back, breathless, muttering “I love you ” before capturing his lips into another kiss. You and him both knew he couldn’t say it, not yet. And that was okay. For now, he would do everything in his power to show you just how much he loved you.